Runaway Found
by dreamerinfic
Summary: Race ran away from everything he loved years ago to make it on his own, but he still feels that tug back to his old life. A night time visit allows those who thought they'd lost him to re-connect and remind him how much he truly has.
1. Chapter 1

Runaway Found

 _(This story is based on the Broadway play Newsies and more specifically, Newsies Live. The Race in this story is based on the Ben Cook character in Newsies Live. However there are elements of the 1992 movie, Newsies, as well.)_

The lodging house was hot and stifling. The dawn was still hours off and Race couldn't sleep. He'd been thinking about his past for days. He didn't know why. He'd left it behind so long ago and had changed so much since then. Sometimes he felt like a completely different person than that little kid that had run away. He had grown up, taken up gambling, smoking, fighting, he even had a completely different name now.

He doubted his mother would even recognize him any more. But he still had ties to them. He still felt some responsibilities that years of change could not erase. Was that why he couldn't sleep? What was the date anyway?

Race shifted in the cramped bunk and let out a frustrated sigh. He reached for his cap and cigar and sat up.

"Where ya going, Race?" Jo Jo asked sleepily from beside him.

"Hey, what's the date today?" Race asked his sleepy bunkmate.

"Tuesday, I think."

"No," Race responded while lighting his cigar, "the date. What's the date?"

"I dunno. August somethin maybe," Jo Jo mumbled as he rolled over. "Go back to sleep, it's not even dawn yet."

"Can't" Race whispered into the stale darkness of the lodging house, "got somethin I gotta do. I'll meet you's at the circulation gate."

Jo Jo just let out a snore in response.

While his friends slept on until the morning bell, Race crept out of the newsboys lodging house and into the pre-dawn city streets. He puffed on his cigar and walked quickly, alert to his surroundings.

It was a fair distance, but it seemed only moments when the familiar apartment block appeared in front of him. Taking a deep breath he headed up the fire escape to face his past one more time.

One of the bedroom windows was open. He nodded to himself, he must've guessed the date right. He'd been making this visit every year on the same day since he'd run away. It was his little brother's birthday.

He'd always taken care of Jaime. That was why he'd run away. His mother wasn't making enough money to support them all. She was going without food for them. At 12 years old he'd known he could support himself and take away that burden from her. His baby brother having food on the table was more important than Race having a family. So he'd left them to try and make it on his own.

He knew he'd done what was best for them. But he just couldn't bear to face his family in the light of day and see the pain he'd caused his mother. Race tried his best to give them what little extra cash he made whenever he could. But he'd been a coward, just like now, and always left it on the windowsill in the middle of the night.

Race looked in through the open window at last. There was his little brother, still sleeping soundly in his own bed. That luxury would cost Race a hard earned ten cents. Jamie was 11 years old now, almost as old as Race was when he'd left home. He was older than Davey's little brother Les. He shook his head in disbelief. He still thought of his little brother as just a little kid. He couldn't imagine his brother out there in the streets like him and his friends. He tried to picture him like Les, trailing around after Jack and learning to lie to sell papes. He didn't like the thought at all.

Race was 16 years old now and was one of the older newsies. The others looked up to him and expected him to be a leader along with Jack, Davey, & Crutchie. He left the hard stuff to Jack, but he had always been aware of his responsibility to the younger boys. He'd always tried to look after them and teach them as best he could. Looking down at his little brother all he wanted to do was keep him as far away from the life him and the newsies lived as possible. If the strike had taught him anything it was that they could all get hurt bad if they weren't careful and no one but the other boys would even blink an eye.

He sighed heavily and took off his cap and to run his hand through blonde curls.

"Happy birthday Jamie," he whispered softly. "I got ya somethin'. You used to love horses when ya were little." Race dug a small carved wooden horse out of his pocket and set it on the windowsill.

"Got it from a fella down at the track. Horse's name is Trident. He's a real winner. It'll bring ya luck."

His brother slept on as he dug in his pockets again, this time coming up with several coins. The sun was beginning to rise as he placed the coins carefully alongside the wooden horse.

"Here's somethin' for ma. Should be a few days worth of food money there." Race looked up at the sky and sighed, "morning bell'll be ringin'. I gotta get to the circulation gate to meet the others, so's I'm not missed."

On the other side of the wall, out of sight of the cracked window, Shannon felt the tears flow down her cheeks, she'd awakened to her oldest boy's voice. After years of searching for him, he was standing just outside her window talking to his sleeping brother.

Her hand covered her mouth to stifle her cry as he mentioned the circulation gate. She'd thought he was working among the newsboys, but searching the faces of every newsie she passed had never gotten her any closer to finding her missing son.

"Take care of ma, ok. So long Jamie."

Race stuck his cigar back in his mouth and began making his way down the fire escape.

"Patrick!" Shannon cried as she threw open her window at last.

But Race couldn't look back, he began running hard down the steps as her shouts followed him. "Please stop, Patrick. I love you, we need you here."

Race shook his head and ran down the alley at breakneck speed. Away from the pain in his mother's voice. Away from the childhood he'd known when he'd lived in that apartment. He ran towards the lodging house, the boys, Jack, the life he'd made for himself as a newsboy.

His mother watched him from the window until he turned the corner. When she turned around her younger son was standing there, the coins and the wooden horse cradled in his hands.

"You saw him?" He asked her softly.

She could only nod in reply, as she wiped at her tears.

"I told you he would come. He never misses my birthday."

"He thought you were asleep," Shannon observed.

Jamie's blue eyes twinkled, "It worked didn't it? He said he had to get to the circulation gate. He's a newsie, ma. We can find him now."

"Get dressed quick, we'll go right now."

Jamie shook his head, "I don't think that's a good idea ma. He'll run as soon as he sees ya. Let me go by myself. It won't spook him as much."

"I already lost one boy to the streets, I'm not going to lose you too. You're only ten years old."

"I'm eleven now, ma," Jamie reminded her, "and that's more than old enough to be a newsie."

Shannon shook her head, but she knew he was right. She'd walked the streets calling for Patrick, searched through crowds of newsies and never found him. But he hadn't wanted her to find him. Her blue eyed, blonde haired tough little boy had thought he needed to support himself to save his mother and brother.

"I have to go, Jamie. I have to see him again," she said, "but I'll try to stay out of sight."

The boy nodded, pocketing the coins and the little horse, then he went to his room to get ready for his first day as a newsie.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"Where was you this mornin', Race?" Jack called to him as he ran up to join the other boys milling about Newsie Square.

Race took his cigar out of his mouth just long enough to spit an answer at Jack, "Don't remember my comin's and goin's be'n any of your business."

The other put out his hands in a placating gesture, "hey, I don't care where you run off to on you's own time," Jack looked back at the group of boys behind him, "now the younger boys, they was a bit worried bout ya."

"Gee, thanks," Race said with no sincerity, "ain't we all slept on the street enough to know we don't need no babysitters."

"You didn't sleep on the street, you paid your fee for the lodging house. So why didn't you stay all night?"

"Like I said before, none of your business," Race grumbled as he elbowed his way past Jack into the crowd of newsboys.

Shannon watched the Newsies from the shadows of the nearest street corner. She held her youngest boy close for a few more minutes before he set off to join the group.

"Saved ya a biscuit," Jo Jo handed him the meager excuse for breakfast.

Race nodded his thanks and took a bite. "I told ya I was goin out this mornin'. You coulda told the boys I'd meet ya here," he told his friend in frustration.

"You didn't tell me nothin'. Woke up and you was gone that's all."

"Why you lousy...I asked you what date it was, don't you remember?"

Jo Jo looked confused, "it's Tuesday."

"Date not day, you nitwit!" Race raised his voice and smacked Jo Jo in the arm with his cap.

"Hey look," Crutchie called to the group, "looks like we got another new kid."

Race looked up at the kid coming toward them across the square and stared in shock. He shook his head to clear it and began looking around the square searching for any sign of his mother. Not spotting her, he roughly jerked his newsboy cap down low over his eyes and clamped his lips down around his cigar, doing his best to blend into the background.

Jamie slowed as he neared the group of tough looking newsies. His heart beat in his chest as he spotted his brother, tall and thin, but one of the toughest looking of them all thanks to that cigar that seemed to be a part of him.

Jamie looked nervously at the ground, not knowing what to do next. If his brother didn't acknowledge that he knew him, he wasn't sure he could do this.

"Hi, I'm Les," a small boy broke apart from the others and walked towards him. "Don't worry bout being new. You'll learn fast and the new'll rub right off, right Race?"

His brother grunted in response. "Race?" Jamie asked out loud, wondering why his brother went by the strange name.

"He sells at the racetrack all the time, so that's his name," Les supplied helpfully. "Race for short." Les began pointing to the other boys one by one, "that's Albert, Jo Jo, Specs cause he wears em, Romeo cause...well I don't know why, that's my brother Davey, and that's Jack, he's president of our union."

Jamie looked more confused than ever, Jack stepped forward, "Hey kid, what should we call you?"

Jamie looked towards Race for help. The older boy took off his cap and ran his fingers through his blonde curls, "leave the poor kid alone, Jack. Maybe he don't wanna sell papes, he's maybe just passing through the square on his way somewheres."

Jack squinted at Race suspiciously, but the new kid spoke before Jack could question further.

"I do wanna sell papes and my name's Jamie."

Jack nodded, "ok then, Jamie. Welcome to the newsies."

"What's going on out here," Oscar Delancy sneered as he opened the gate, "you gutter rats adopt a new pet?"

"Sure they did," Morris joined in, "needed one we hadn't broken yet what with all the bustin' up we did during the strike and all"

"Remind me again why you're still workin' here Morris?" Jack asked as he squared up to him.

"Cause you don't pull Pulitzer's strings, Kelly. We wasn't part of your strike deal." Morris spat back.

"Hey kid," Oscar called to Jamie, "if you're smart you'll run back home before you get caught up with this riff-raff."

Race squared up to him, "who you callin' riff-raff ya no good bottom feeder?"

Oscar's hands balled into fists, "lookin' for a fight today, Racer?"

"What if I am?" Race shot back menacingly.

"We're more than happy to oblige, ain't we Morris?"

Before any fists could fly Jack Kelly stepped between the two.

"Boys, boys, let's all calm down now. No one's looking for a fight."

"But Jack, they's...," Race complained, still itching to soak the Delancy brothers.

"Not in front of the new kid, ok? Let's all just worry bout sellin papes today."

Race looked behind him at the pale, frightened face of his little brother and nodded glumly at Jack.

"Papes for the Newsies! Line up!"

Shannon watched from her hiding place with her hand over her mouth. What she'd seen of her son tore her heart open. The boys he was with obviously were close enough to be their own family. They protected each other, looked after each other. And it appeared that the absence of Patrick this morning was enough to be noticed and commented upon. They were worried about where he'd been. But her boy, he had gotten so street wise, the tough exterior she'd seen as he threatened to fight those bigger boys scared her. That wasn't the Patrick she'd known. Of course, she realized to live on the streets, survive as a newsie, he'd had to develop a thick skin. She just hoped her little boy was still in there somewhere and that he'd look after his brother today. If what she'd heard at the window was any indication, she thought her Patrick was still in there.

Boys scrambled for their places in line, Jamie taking up a place near Les and Davey. From his usual spot between Jack and Crutchie Race tried to watch his brother. Les seemed to be pointing out other newsies and explaining to him how to get his papes. As Jack took his 100 papes and put them in his bag he looked at Race then back at Jamie. Race focused on collecting his papes, counting them carefully for the first time in years. He put the pile in his bag then pulled out one to read over the day's stories.

Jack, tired of being studiously ignored by his second in command, hit him in the arm with a pape.

"What's up with you, huh? You's acting strange. Do you know that new kid?"

"No, what're you talking bout?" Race retorted hotly.

"I think you do," Jack stated bluntly.

Race scoffed and rolled his eyes, "You don't know nothin'."

"Well get this, I think you should be the one to take the kid out today and teach him the ropes."

Race gaped at him, the cigar in danger of falling out of his mouth. He finally rescued it in time to answer Jack, "Whad'ya mean? You always take out the new kids."

"I still got Les and Davey to worry bout."

Race gestured wildly with the lit cigar, "Les can sell circles round half the kids here without your help. You could take out the new kid and let those two go out on their own."

Jack shook his head, "Yeah, but I don't wanna let them two out on their own yet, not with the way things been since the strike. And you're next in charge, so I says you take out the new kid today and teach him the ropes."

Race looked around him at all the boys. All eyes were on them, watching to see who would win in this battle between the two oldest newsies. His eyes lit on Jamie, his eyes were pleading, begging Race to acknowledge him, say he knew him, say they were brothers…he just couldn't. Not yet. Not now.

"Well, Racer, what's it gonna be, you gonna take the new kid out or not?" Jack questioned.

Race groaned and threw up his hands, "Alright, I'll do it. I'll take the kid out with me."

"Good. But hey, don't take the kid to the track ok."

Race looked personally offended, "What?" he yelled back at Jack.

"He's too young, Race. It aint fittin to have a kid that age sellin at the track."

"You took Les to a theater in the Bowery his first day!" Race reminded Jack loudly.

"That was different, we was bein' chased. Come on, you can sell somewhere's else for one day, can't you?"

Race shoved his cigar angrily between his lips, grabbed Jamie by the shoulder and started steering him away from the rest of the group.

"Try Central Park, it's guaranteed, good place to train a new newsie." Jack called to his back.

Stopping in his tracks, he pulled the cigar from his lips and turned, "You know how bone tired I'm gettin' of you telling me what to do, Kelly?"

"Hey, I'm sure Spot Conlon would always be glad to have ya in Brooklyn," Jack retorted.

Race threw him a rude gesture.

"Newsies," Jack called to the crowd in the square, "hit the streets. Let's sell some papes."

The crowd of boys broke apart, everyone running in different directions. Race looked down at Jamie.

"Racetrack," Jack's voice broke into his thoughts.

"See you at the lodging house tonight," Jack said to him from his place in the middle of the square. It was an apology of sorts, an acknowledgment, that whatever was said between them was forgotten. They were still family.

Race met his eyes and raised his hand, "Yeah, see ya tonight, Jack."

Then they were alone, he and his brother in Newsie Square. They looked at each other. For the first time in four years, they looked each other in the eyes in the light of day.

"Well, come on then. I gotta figure out where we's gonna sell," Race said finally, and they set off together towards the streets of lower Manhattan.


	3. Chapter 3

Runaway Found Ch 3:

Race walked away from Newsie Square with his little brother trailing him. Jamie was nearly running to keep up with the long strides of the lanky teenager, but Race couldn't slow down. He could still hear the others hawking their papes, and he wanted to get as far away from his friends as he could before he spoke to his brother.

"I thought we were goin' to Central Park," Jamie said in a winded voice as he looked around the narrow alley they were cutting through trying to determine where they were headed.

Race made a frustrated sound, "No way, I ain't goin' there. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Sides, he'll probably be there tryin' to spy on us. And I don't do everything Mr. high and mighty Jack Kelly tells me to."

"But Patrick," Jamie began.

Race whirled around, "Don't call me that!"

Jamie's eyes went wide and he stammered as Race advanced on him, punctuating his words with the cigar clasped tightly between his fingers, "That is not my name anymore. It's Race, got it? Race!"

Jamie nodded, his back against the wall, his brother looming over him. "But why?" He asked innocently.

"Cause four years is a hell of a long time on the streets. That's why," came Race's bitter response.

"You beatin' the kid up already, Race?"

Jack's confident sarcasm cut into the tumultuous scene.

Race backed up a few paces and forcibly relaxed his posture as he watched Jack, Davey, & Les walk towards them.

"Nah, we was just gettin' a few things straight between us is all," Race explained.

Jack nodded as he looked Jamie over, "Sure you was. Maybe I was wrong makin' you take the kid out today."

"Hey Davey, how bout you take the kid with you and let me go to the track, huh? I'll owe ya one," Race tried.

"What would I show him? How to let Les and Jack sell all the papes while I try to come up with ways not to lie about the crappy headline?" Davey coughed and waved his hand at Race's cigar, "could you watch the smoke?"

In response Race just puffed harder, taking care to blow a perfect smoke ring right in Davey's face.

"Thanks," Davey managed to deadpan through a fit of coughing.

"So you's followin' me or what," Race asked Jack after Davey recovered.

"No," said Jack, "but we saw the Delancey's headed in your direction and figured they may still be lookin' for a soakin'."

"Thought you could use our help," Les offered, "safety in numbers."

"Thanks kid," Race said as his eyes took in Les and then Jamie. He looked up and met Jack's gaze sending him a silent message. They couldn't put these boys in danger.

Jack understood without a word being spoken, "I know, Race. I know."

They both turned to look at Davey. "Hey Dave, I was headed up to a good sellin' spot round the corner and up two blocks. Why don't you take the kids there and Jack and I'll meet ya after we get this sorted."

Davey looked between them and nodded. "C'mon boys, we're wastin' daylight. Be careful...both of you," he called to them as he ushered the boys away.

Race pointed up at the fire escapes, Jack smiled and showed Race a barrel of oil sitting to the side of the alley. Race grinned and picked up some stones from the ground. They had a plan.

"Hey Oscar, you smell gutter rat?" The Delancey brothers had arrived.

"Hey Jack," Race called out, "you see what I see?"

"I see two of Pulitzer's guard dogs tryin to soak defenseless kids just tryin' to do an honest day's work," Jack responded.

"Ain't nothin' honest bout the two of you," Oscar yelled while pointing up at them. "Why don't you get down here ya lousy brats and take your medicine."

"Ya see, Oscar, we'd love to oblige, me and Race, but things have gotten a bit slippery down there."

The moment Jack finished speaking Race threw his ammunition at the barrel of oil and sent it toppling over at the brothers' feet. Both of them were down on the ground in seconds. As they struggled to their feet slipping and cursing they were hit by rocks, bits of trash, and any other little piece of ammunition the two boys had scrounged from the alleyway. At last they got to their feet, slipping and sliding back the way they came.

When they were gone, their curses and insults still echoing off the walls of the alley, Race and Jack swung down from their perches taking care to avoid the spilled oil.

"Hey good work," Jack said, "they should be done for the rest of the day. Just try not to get on their bad side again tomorrow."

"I thought them two only had a bad side."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean," Jack put his hand on his friend's shoulder and Race nodded.

"He looks like you, ya know," Jack said, looking him straight in the eye.

For a moment Race could only stare at him, and then he could only think of a one word response, "Who?" It sounded lame even to his own ears and he cringed at the denial of his family.

"Who...Who? The new kid that's off with Davey right now. Who is he to you, your brother?"

Race gave no response.

"You forget, I knew you back then. Before this," Jack gestured at the cigar in his mouth. "When we was just green kids together trying to learn about life on the streets."

Race let out a heavy sigh, "That was so long ago. Sometimes I don't even remember what it was like back then." He stepped away from Jack, needing to put some distance between them to have this deep conversation. He leaned against the wall of the alley. "Hey Jack, do you feel like the same person you was before...before this?"

"Nah, I'm not the same person, neither are you. We grew up...the hard way. Them kids that showed up at Newsie Square four years ago couldn't a led a strike, fought Pulitzer, got Snyder locked up, couldn't keep all those kids safe in the lodging house and out on the street day after day."

"That's you...not me," Race said quietly.

"Not true. We's family, a team. Nothin' we done during the strike could'a been done by one person. You're important. And I couldn't look after all these kids without ya."

Race looked down at the ground, afraid to meet his friends eyes. "I left my family so long ago, Jack. They won't even know me. How can I be a...a...son, or a brother?" His voice cracked on the word.

"What're ya talkin' bout? You're my brother, and I think you're pretty good at it. And all them other kids that missed ya this mornin', they's your brothers too. Just be you, Race. That's all ya gotta be. Just be you."

Race swiped at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand and looked away from Jack towards the street.

He took a deep breath, determined to be strong. "We'd better get back to the others before Davey teaches em how to sell without stretchin' the truth."

Jack nodded to his friend, then paused, craning his head to look round the alley, "Did ya see that?"

"No, what?" Race asked, looking back the way the Delancey brothers had run.

"I thought I saw someone. A woman, thought I saw her in the Square too. Must just be my imagination though, I don't see anyone now."

Race peered into the dark corners and side streets of the alley. He shook his head...was it his mother?

"C'mon Race, lets go."

At Jack's urging Race followed after him towards Davey and the boys.

As Jack rounded the corner Race stopped and turned around, facing the alley. He saw her, he was sure of it. There around the side of a building. He could just see her skirt. Then his breath caught as she stepped fully out of her hiding spot into the alley, just past where the Delancey's had been. She looked at him and raised a hand.

Race raised a hand back, "I'm sorry ma," he said in a whisper.

Then he turned and was gone.


End file.
